


All These Woes

by vivial



Series: Another Side, Another Story [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Pre-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivial/pseuds/vivial
Summary: Three years after Asriel's trial, Marisa stumbles upon the consequences of her lies.(A sort of sequel to In Hushed Whispers)





	All These Woes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Back again with my Masriel nonsense. I dabbled in some soft smut, and I'm not proud of it lmao I felt like I needed this closure, I don't know. I was in the mood for some sadness.
> 
> Chapter verses are from Leopard by Jack Stauber.  
Title from Woes, by Tom Rosenthal.
> 
> Thank you Sami for proofreading this mess!

_ Though the bad is gone and they're no longer sore  
They can't feel the light anymore _

Marisa saw him first, and that is why she blamed herself for everything else; that single moment of hesitation, when without a second glance she recognised his figure talking to a scholar. The monkey flinched on her shoulder, and it was as if Asriel knew she was looking, because he turned around and they locked eyes. He had a glimpse of a smirk on his lips that completely vanished when he saw her. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowed and Marisa sensed as everyone in the room noticed the spark of embarrassment that happened, although it was all very silent, although they were in very different places in the room.

Three years of working hard to establish her reputation again, to harness a power base for herself, and all of that gone by simply standing in the same room as Asriel. Marisa sipped her drink to try and wash away the bitter taste in her mouth, to no avail. He looked back to his companion: the director of the Royal Arctic Institute himself.

She scoffed, silently, turning away so her disdainful smile was not seen by him. _ Typical _, she thought. Even with everything taken from him, the respect Asriel commanded was immense and extremely offensive to her. Had she no sense of pride, she would have left that place at once, but she didn’t, because anything shorter than staying would be humiliating.

“Marisa!” She recognised Boreal’s voice and turned to face him, a big smile on her face, as if she was baring her teeth in anger. He wouldn’t leave her alone, she even began to think Dorothea had been right about him and the thought of that made her edgy. She would never tell her that of course, but even agreeing with her on her own mind made Marisa angry. “How’s your drink?”

“Warming up.” She said, but the glass was practically empty. Boreal noticed she wasn’t entirely happy, so he came closer and Marisa had to struggle with the urge to push him away.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can always leave, my dear.” He said, but Marisa took a step aside, politely, and straightened herself. She smiled, softly.

“There’s no need to fret, Carlo. I see the baron there, would you mind introducing us?”

Boreal offered his arm and Marisa spent the rest of the hour chatting with important men and women, but no matter how hard she tried to suppress the idea that Asriel was in the same place she was, the others were not so keen on doing the same. She noticed the awkward looks and the way they stared at her, and Marisa felt as if she was back at the week after the trial, where everyone saw her as a homewrecker and a temptress and the sole guilty party of the situation or worse - they thought she stupidly gullible to have fallen for Asriel. People talked, friendly, but she sensed their apprehension; three years without seeing Asriel, only to be once again put under blame by simply standing next to him. Marisa and her monkey clawed each other, discreetly.

He didn’t look at her again, and no one asked her about the situation, yet she did build a scenario in her head and prepared herself for that. The problem with lying such a long term lie, was that Marisa had to keep true, ironically, to her story and it was difficult, because she no longer wanted to be the demure, quiet wife; she had turned to an ambitious path and became more assertive, more imposing and they knew her name because of her accomplishments, not because of Edward or Asriel; yet, lying such a long lived lie was extremely complicated and it could take only one mistake to reset her entire life again.

By the time dinner began, Marisa and the guests were seated in tables of four and she was lucky enough to be split from Boreal and his clingy disposition. Instead, she was at the same table as a renowned philosopher, whom she planned to ravage with questions, but when she sat down, the name on the chair next to her made her gritted her teeth.

“Ha, the irony.” Asriel had stopped there, allowing himself a bitter smile; she looked at him, feeling cornered. “To think I would’ve done everything in my power to be seated with you a couple of years ago.”

“Do you think you have any right to address me?” She hissed, very low.

Asriel didn’t have time to reply because they weren’t alone for long; their host approached them and exchanged a quick look in between her and Asriel. He went pale in a matter of seconds.

“I am so, so sorry for this situation.” He began, his daemon hiding in his pocket, mouse shaped. “I think someone may not have done their research! I’ll find some place else for you, Lord Asriel. And Mrs. Coulter, I am--”

Marisa acted before she thought that through, but she felt no regrets.

“Oh, but there’s no need for that.” She said, sweet and lovely, and then she smirked at Asriel and watched him tense under her gaze. Stelmaria moved her tail, wary. “I’m sure both Lord Asriel and I can remain civil for a couple of hours.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Coulter?” The host said, nervous, but Marisa gently touched his arm in a gesture of reassurance, that was as fake as… well, anything else in her life, but the man didn’t notice that. “I can find another place for Lord Asriel quickly.”

“I think--” Asriel began, but Marisa interrupted him with a mix of anger and pleasure.

“No, no, I insist. Please, sit down.” She said, but underneath her lovely ways, there was a layer of viciousness. Asriel looked at her, puzzled. _ Good _ , she thought, _ that will leave him hanging _. “Sit. Down.”

He did sit down eventually, and the host moved on breathing with relief and Marisa now found herself with a situation she probably shouldn’t have caused in the first place, but the idea that Asriel would be comfortable at another table as she suffered the eyes and whispers alone was unbearable.

“If you intend to beg for Lyra, save your breath.” He said, quietly, as their table was beginning to be populated.

Marisa raised an eyebrow; she had barely thought of Lyra except for a brief moment that was gone as soon as Asriel locked her away at Jordan. It was pointless to dwell on it.

“I have never begged for anything in my life and I shan’t begin that now, you should know that.” She said and smiled as the philosopher she was hoping for sat down and nodded at them, friendly. He was a foreigner, a german scholar, so he probably wasn’t aware of the mess he had gotten into, which was refreshing, given the tense air in the room. “I’m just making sure you have the same evening that I do.”

“So it’s petty revenge, then.” Asriel scolded her, he even sounded entertained which made Marisa angrier. “Well, I don’t know what else I was expecting from you, but I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Marisa had a reply ready, one that would have been so beneath her that she was glad she never said it; instead, dinner was served and she turned her attention to the german scholar, with his sunny disposition. Suddenly, it was as if Asriel wasn’t there anymore, until he was again, the moment she made a comment on the man’s research:

“Oh, you know _ all _ about that, don’t you?” The amusement in his voice was nasty, vicious, distasteful.

She turned around to smack his face, but the german scholar spoke before she did that, and Marisa was grateful for it.

“Oh, she does, Lord Asriel!” He said, cheerfully, so Marisa grinned, despite having her monkey grab her ankles violently to soothe his own rage. “Mrs. Coulter was telling me her discoveries about the bond between human and daemons. It’s fascinating!”

“You mean the alloy I told you about?” Asriel smirked and Marisa braced herself for whatever he was going to say, but the scholar went ahead.

“Oh, yes! She did mention on her paper, that you were the creator of her base alloy. I wonder, what led you to such a discovery?” The man asked and Marisa froze, as Asriel did the same; she watched his impassive expression, but his eyes often betrayed him, as they did now.

“Sheer curiosity, I’d say.” Asriel replied, a sarcastic shimmer in his eyes, but then he looked away and so did she.

After a while, he excused himself and left. The scholar didn’t assume anything about what happened, and Marisa watched Asriel leave with Stelmaria at his heels, aloof and imposing as ever. That image stung her mind, but she brushed it away quickly.

“Is Lord Asriel okay?” The scholar asked, naive and gullible, and Marisa patted his hand gently.

“He is known to be a moody man, perhaps he will come back eventually.”

But he didn’t. Instead, they finished their dinner and Marisa managed to evade the thoughts gnawing her mind, although that didn’t last long. She walked outside, evading Boreal by standing alone on the sidewalk and lighting up her cigarette. For a moment, with her daemon at her heels, she wished she had drank more wine, because that was the only thing that could keep her distress away. A cold breeze made her straighten her coat.

She finished her cigarette and picked another one; Boreal had offered her a ride, and she had insistently denied him, politely and sweetly, until he gave up. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, because home stank of past memories, no matter the rearrangements she made.

Her lighter failed, once, twice; Marisa was about to lose her patience, when he approached her, quietly and uncharacteristically. She was so startled that she dropped the cigarette from her lips, but the monkey caught it halfway while he was climbing to her shoulder. Marisa chastised him for seeing Asriel coming closer, and not telling her, but she did so in her thoughts.

He had a lighter in front of her; Marisa hesitated for two seconds, then leaned in to light her cigarette up.

“I thought you had left.” She whispered. The Royal Arctic Institute was still open, but almost every single guest had left already; the ones inside were mostly scholars, studying their own nocturne projects. She still felt a little exposed, as Asriel put his hands in his pockets and watched her take a pull on her cigarette. “Are you back to insult me properly this time?”

He didn’t say a word, Stelmaria seated at his side, her head softly brushing against the fabric of his pants. Marisa watched him quietly, as he watched her back: she thought he seemed tired, worn-out. His clothes were never extremely fancy, but he carried himself with a grandeur, yet now he wore a second-hand shirt, and an old, stained cardigan and his coat was slightly torn around the edges. He hadn’t shaved that night, but there was the small wound on his cheek where he probably cut himself while doing it last time. There was an aloofness drowned in melancholy that Marisa was unfamiliar with; she felt as if she was staring at a stranger.

“Are you going to stare me down all night?” She whispered. He didn’t reply, but she saw the flicker of a smile on his lips, something he struggled to contain.

That made her bold, igniting memories she should long ago have buried. Marisa took a step closer, and then another, until they were so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. She could smell the wine and the cheap tobacco, and the faintest scent of soap he had about him; the night was cold, but he was very warm, and when she rose her head a little to meet his eyes, Marisa felt the soft, cold drops of the rain that was beginning to fall.

Asriel leaned in, his hands still in his pockets, and their lips brushed slightly, but he didn’t kiss her. Marisa was so tense she let out a loud sigh and he laughed, but quietly. The street was dark and empty, the only source of light coming from the glass doors of the institute and its lit up atrium. _ We’re well concealed _, she thought.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” He murmured; she scoffed. Her monkey was already on the floor, reaching for Stelmaria, cautious.

“Thanks to you, Asriel, I am always alone.” Her voice was edgier than she wanted it to be.

He grinned, but she could see the bitterness in his eyes. That layer of something dark, maybe wicked, maybe hurt.

“You are despicable.”

Marisa took a step back; she felt like she was pushing her luck, that being bold would result in nothing but pain. But he seized her arm and pulled her closer, violently, only to let her go moments later. She had never seen him so staggering, so hesitant as in that moment.

“You’re running out of adjectives to insult me, Asriel.” They were still quite close, perhaps too close, and Marisa felt way too aware of it.

“Then I’ll create some more, rest assured. There’s plenty of things to insult you of.”

“Why are you here?” She hissed. He crossed his arms, impatient, angry, cold and bored; every feeling in his face was a burst of energy and emotion that Marisa found intoxicating.

“I came to have dinner with my friends, then I saw you… Imagine my surprise.” He said, quietly, staring her down but Marisa barely flinched. She had meant why _ there _, on the street, but his reply was intentionally illusive. She heard Stelmaria growl; Asriel pulled Marisa closer and gripped harder on her waist, and she rested her hands on his shoulders, slightly curved back as to keep their faces apart. She knew he wouldn’t kiss her: if he wanted to do that, he would have already done it, he was teasing her and annoying her in the process.

“You could have left any time.”

“Yes, but then again, you ruined my whole life, what is one more ruined night?” His eyes glittered with something so uncanny to Marisa, so unfamiliar, that she felt afraid for a moment. “Dinner would have been nice, after so many months in the North. You had to ruin it, though, by being petty.”

“You’re being dramatic. It doesn’t suit you.” She scolded him, honestly, and she felt his hands slide on her neck as he held her head, his thumb slowly brushing her lower lip. He was calmer now, and held her more confidently, steadier. The rain poured more constantly and cold. “You knew this could happen! You gambled with my life and yours, and now that you don’t like the consequences, you blame me entirely for something you started.”

“You could have told the truth, Marisa!” He said, a bit loud, angry. He had been angry all the time since the trial, she felt like the memory of his grin was fading from her mind, slowly, but surely. “It would have worked and we would both be left alone, unscarred.”

“You can’t seriously believe that!” She scolded. “Not even you can be that naive! They wanted your head! You were doomed the moment you killed Edward.”

“You were looking after yourself, as you always did.” Asriel’s grin came back, but it had no pleasure nor joy nor anything that made him the energetic man she had met; there was only anguish.

“Damn right I was!” Marisa snapped, poking his chest with her index finger. “We both would have sunk down if I had said I wasn’t remorseful. What did you want me to do?”

“You didn’t have to lie, Marisa.”

“Well, I didn’t lie!” He scoffed and that made her edgier, her voice rose a little. It was probably very late, if they started yelling, the security guard at the institute could come check on them, people who lived nearby would listen to them. She didn’t need nor want another scandal. “I did not lie, Asriel.”

“You implied that I seduced you! How is that not lying?”

“You did! You were the one who started this mess!” She said, irritated. “You were the one who asked Dorothea to leave me alone with you back in the North._ You _ came to me with your improper jokes and your sly invitations. You persisted on this matter, you pursued me knowing that I was married! How is _ that _ not seducing me?”

“You’re not a naive schoolgirl, Marisa, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“So did you!”

“You were the married one and you never backed down either.” Asriel snarled and Stelmaria growled at the monkey, who growled back. “You made it sound like I took advantage of you, do you really take me for that sort of man?”

They stood quiet; it felt like a time travelling of a sorts, as if that fight had already happened and it was happening again. Marisa dusted her coat, slightly wet from the rain, quite damp. Asriel took a step forward, calm, but that was as close as he got to her; she could listen to the beating of her heart.

“You look tired.” She said and he nodded, to her surprise. She was counting on a citric comeback that never came.

“I barely came back from an expedition. I arrived in London this morning.” He rubbed his eyes, exhausted, but never diminished, never less proud. “They invited me so I could discuss business terms. I figured a dinner at the Institute wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m guessing I was wrong.”

“So, you leave the girl alone?”

“She is not alone, she is safe and sound.” He rose an eyebrow; she thought he seemed amused now.

“Raised by servants, abandoned like a ragdoll in Jordan!” Marisa said, exacerbated. “Why not give her to me? I can afford to raise her, you know.”

“So you can give her to the Church? For them to kill her or worse?” Asriel snarled; if her comment offended him, he didn’t show. “You’ll never have her. I heard you’ve been trying to get a permission to see her; it won’t work. I won’t allow it.”

Marisa took a step forward again but Asriel didn’t even blink at that.

“You can’t stop me, you have nothing.”

She felt his hands on her arms, gripping tight, but not too much. He pulled her closer, too close and half-kissed her, pulling back with such an effort on his eyebrows, his expression showing that he was using his entire willpower for that. She felt like he touched her with a caution he didn’t use to have before, as if she was poisonous as well as sweet; the idea left her dizzy and a little hurt.

“You overestimate yourself, Marisa, and you always have. You can take my estates, my money, or my dignity, for fuck’s sake! But when it comes to Lyra, you will never have enough to topple me.” He let her go, softly. Marisa noticed her heavy breathing and demanded the monkey back into her arms with a snap of her fingers; he whimpered, but did so.

The way Asriel laughed before he went on was vicious, painful. “And you know that, otherwise you would have already tried to get her. Your friends can’t help you, although I doubt Boreal said that to you, but why would he, when you flatter him so much? Your soft smiles, your tender brush of fingers on his neck, isn’t that what you do when you’re pleading? You are right about one thing, though.”

“About what?” She sounded harsher than she meant, but he had gotten on her nerves.

“Thanks to me, you are always alone.” He kissed her cheek, softly, feeble, tense. “And always will be. Have a good evening.”

She didn’t watch him walk away, instead turning around and going in the opposite direction, breathless and nearly heartless.

*******

She got home in time to avoid the actual, thick rain.

Marisa took a bath, and got herself dry in her nightgown, thinking about everything about that weird night. Her monkey stood as far from her as he could, resenting her for taking him away from Stelmaria; despite Marisa and Asriel’s fractured relationship, their daemons seemed to be friendly enough or even longing enough for each other. She ignored the meaning of that, if there was any.

“What is he doing?” She murmured, when she failed to concentrate on the book she was reading in her bed. The monkey didn’t reply, but he thought of something that made her sigh.

Dorothea had told her that Asriel had changed, drastically, marching against the harsh North, further and further, as if he had no life and no child. Marisa never asked, but she got the information all the same, as if the lady was trying to hurt her or warn her or something. Indeed, Asriel seemed more brutal, angrier and more defiant, as if the fact he had nothing had put a rage spell on him. He was still impressive, powerful and proud, but something underneath it all seemed misplaced, as if he was a clockwork with a missing gear, or a broken one and of clockworks Marisa understood, despite not comprehending that wounded man.

The storm out there was loud, so she didn’t hear the doorbell, but her monkey did. For a moment she hesitated, because it was late and no one sensible would knock at her door at that hour, and she knew that damn well and it was the reason why she stood up and walked all the way to the atrium to open it.

Marisa didn’t bother faking surprise when she saw Asriel there, soaking wet, and Stelmaria licking her paws to dry herself. His coat seemed heavier than before; she raised her eyebrows.

“What is it now?”

“Your research… there is a calculation there that I noticed is wrong.” Marisa almost smiled, as he made his way into her flat, taking his wet coat off and dropping it on the floor. She closed the door, speechless.

“That is nonsense!” She argued, but he laughed, and turned to her, and took his soaked cardigan off. He was so wet that his shirt, underneath, allowed her to see his skin through. He approached her, but she put his hand on his chest to push him away. “You’re wet, don’t touch me.”

“It’s not nonsense, it’s the truth. Not that you’re familiar with the concept, Marisa, that’s something foreign to you.” He didn’t grin, but she sensed his amusement. He got closer and she was so caught up in his bullshit that she didn’t stop him.

Asriel was cold and she shivered when he touched her. She saw a glimpse of Stelmaria and her monkey, and took a deep breath when he cupped her cheek.

“You’re soaking my nightgown.” She whispered and he laughed, heartily.

“In case you have forgotten due to your prude façade, that is the main idea, Marisa.”

“Don’t be nasty.” She slapped his arm, but Marisa caught herself smiling and she immediately forced herself to stop. “You’re invading my home, disrupting my reading, staining my carpet… What is it that you want from me, Asriel?”

He kissed her briefly, then looked at her, both breathless and shaking, from the cold and something else too.

“Marisa, we can banter all night if you like. We both have enough to say to last a lifetime, but I’d rather not talk.” He said and pulled her closer, despite the cold of the damp fabric, she could feel heat coming off of him as well. His lips against her ear as he whispered: “If we talk, we’ll fight and then we’ll get angry. I’ll leave and you’ll go back to sulking in your bed, longing for me.”

“For a man who has nothing, you certainly have a high opinion of yourself, Asriel.” Her arms were involuntarily around his neck as she involuntarily pressed herself against him. She felt him hard against herself and pondered if she was making a mistake in indulging all of that.

He didn’t bother to give her a reply. Instead, Marisa felt his hands on her hair as he kissed her, so fiercely, that she whimpered quietly and made him laugh. He took her in his arms, her legs strongly gripping around his waist; the wall was cold against her back when he pressed her there, slightly bumping her head, but she didn’t have the time to scold him for that. She was too busy helping him take his shirt off, damp and cold, and throwing it on the floor. There was a bruise on his shoulder, dark purple, and he winced whenever she touched it, so she took pleasure in his pain and made sure her hand was often there. As payback, he pressed her harder against the wall as he ran his hands on her legs.

Marisa let out a sigh, but she dug her fingers in his wet hair again and kissed him harder, faster, her nails scratching his cheeks, his back and his chest, biting his lips with an uncanny fierceness when he slapped her thigh so hard she still felt the touch of his hand on it the next morning.

He put her down so he could take her clothes off and she helped him with his belt, so Marisa spent her twenty seconds away from him watching his face up close. He had dark circles under his eyes now, and he looked tired and more rough than before; his hair was becoming grey, already and he had a small bruise on his cheek as well. His lips were broken from, constant exposure to harsh winds, so they felt rougher than before, but he still kissed her carefully and smoothly, his tongue sliding over her lips to compensate the coarse touch that came before.

“I have a bedroom, you know.” She murmured, as Asriel took her in his arms again and Marisa moaned quietly when she felt him inside her; he didn’t say a word and Marisa sunk her teeth into his bruised shoulder and he hissed, pushing her harder against the wall, once, twice, several times, until she was gripping at anything she could find, saying words that were completely out of order.

Asriel used his hand to support himself against Marisa, her legs still wrapped around his waist; he was already sweaty and Marisa thought the whole room was hot and uncomfortable, but in his arms she felt like she fitted; rain still poured violently outside though. The friction of her bare back against the wall was beginning to hurt her.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She whispered, restless as Asriel put her down, softly, panting and he rested his forehead against hers, holding her tight. There was silence for a moment, except for the rain and their heavy breathing.

“It’s a little too late for that, Marisa.” He said, his hand in her hair and the other against her own, their fingers softly brushing against each other.

Marisa thought it was so easy to forget everything when he touched her, how simple it was to let go of her problems, and she felt fulfilled for a moment, before the hollowness took over her again.

“Asriel--”

“You’re _ talking, _ Marisa. Don’t speak, please. Let us just… I don’t know... Be quiet.” The way he said her name was almost obscene; he kissed her lips and her face, and followed her jaw and neckline, then kissed her shoulder and she sunk deeper in his arms, feeling warm and satisfied against her own will.

“Maybe you should leave.”

He didn’t move, instead holding her tighter. His scent made Marisa dwell on good memories, so much that she didn’t even mean what she said. Asriel knew that too, as he bit her lips so hard that he drew blood. She flinched, and squirmed of pain and hurt his lower lip in return.

“Maybe I should.” And then he kissed her again and again and again.

*******

He left before daylight, as to avoid curious eyes, but not before they spent hours roaming the house, in the living room and her kitchen and in the book-ridden study, anywhere except her bed. Marisa felt he was doing it to spite her, but that was Asriel and that was his mood in general, she never knew him in any other way.

Asriel didn’t kiss her goodbye, but he did announce he was leaving, not as cheery as he used to be; there was a dark amusement in his voice, bitter, sour, painful. Marisa saw him to the door after he dressed himself with his damp clothes, and she laughed quietly when he made a disgusted face as the fabric touched his skin. Stelmaria shook her entire body because of their discomfort.

Then reality came back, bitter and sharp; she slept for a couple of hours and then lived through her day as usual. There were letters to reply, a lunch to attend, and more work to do in the afternoon; there was even a telegram from Dorothea, from wherever she was at the moment, inviting Marisa for a party in fifteen days. She scoffed at that; it was probably another meeting to trade information, a deal that still stood between them.

Marisa looked at her papers, the ones she wanted to give to a judge so she could see Lyra, but Asriel’s words hit her hard: he wasn’t a man who made empty threats, so she already knew her plan would fail. Throwing the papers away, she told herself that she would have to work on a new plan later.

She saw him again three days later, and he was happier than before, laughing and boasting and chatting during lunchtime with men from the Institute. Marisa assumed he had gotten his funds to continue exploring, away from their cursed city, where his name had been slandered day and night for the past three years, where their memories of each other did nothing but cause pain and agony and a remorseful desire that culminate in further sin.

She was at her own table, listening to Boreal’s update on his own project, but her eyes were often darting to Asriel. As if he knew she was looking, he looked at her too once more, and there was a spark of something shimmery, a warmth that took over her as she recollected the feeling of his hands on her.

Boreal’s hand on her arm brought her back, quite quickly, to the stark and cold reality; it seemed to have shaken Asriel too because his smile was gone. He had a frown now and he looked at her, almost pleading for a moment, if that was something possible for such a proud man. Then, he shook his head, almost imperceptible, but the disappointment was there. Marisa thought she was about to get up, for a moment, and go to him; her whole body seemed to have thrown her into that direction, but she resisted, her memories stronger her wishes.

Instead, he looked away and so did she.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
